ref. to Oscar Wilde
We know a secret which we share in common
of the highest depth and ultimate intimacy
that spells our lives with magic
of such kind that everyone must envy us
our knowledge of this intimacy with divinity,
which they can only do out of their ignorance.
Let them torture us with that if they so bother
since that only can become a torture to themselves.
We have a higher task to overcome;
the base frustrations that futility so stupidly bombard us with
are only challenges to cope with on our way
to do our job without reward and without understanding
not to just survive but to survive as souls
and thereby progress on our thorny stormy path
to higher education to thereby continue to instruct this wretched life
of what it really is and should be;
and that is our squirrel's wheel:
to ever run about and reaching nowhere
without ever getting out of the entrapment of our destiny
as spiritual workers working harder or at least as hard as any farmer
for the betterment of mankind
sacrificing all including and especially ourselves
on the delightful never-ending Via Crucis
of our passion of the nightingale's commitment to the rose.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 663 times
Written on 2006-12-09 at 12:19
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Divine intimacy
We know a secret which we share in common
of the highest depth and ultimate intimacy
that spells our lives with magic
of such kind that everyone must envy us
our knowledge of this intimacy with divinity,
which they can only do out of their ignorance.
Let them torture us with that if they so bother
since that only can become a torture to themselves.
We have a higher task to overcome;
the base frustrations that futility so stupidly bombard us with
are only challenges to cope with on our way
to do our job without reward and without understanding
not to just survive but to survive as souls
and thereby progress on our thorny stormy path
to higher education to thereby continue to instruct this wretched life
of what it really is and should be;
and that is our squirrel's wheel:
to ever run about and reaching nowhere
without ever getting out of the entrapment of our destiny
as spiritual workers working harder or at least as hard as any farmer
for the betterment of mankind
sacrificing all including and especially ourselves
on the delightful never-ending Via Crucis
of our passion of the nightingale's commitment to the rose.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
Read 663 times
Written on 2006-12-09 at 12:19
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
